


Hurt and Comfort

by Allerleirauh



Series: A Long Road [4]
Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 06:52:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1769671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allerleirauh/pseuds/Allerleirauh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Young hurts, Rush comforts – well, kind of…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hurt and Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> written for smallfandomfest round 15  
> prompt: hurt/comfort, guilt
> 
> betaed by: lahela_sga

“You’re such a child sometimes. You know that, don’t you?” Rush asked, his voice wavering halfway between slight amusement and full-blown exasperation.

Young wisely decided to keep his mouth shut, sure that it was the best strategy to get the help he needed while avoiding more humiliating comments.

He felt Rush’s hands fumble with the fastenings of his pants, and a second later Rush pushed them down. Kneeling down himself, he proceeded to unlace Young’s boots.

Young gazed straight ahead, staring at the closed door of his quarters. _Jesus_ , he thought. _Why is it always me who gets himself into this kind of situations?_ Here he was, standing in his quarters, his trousers bunching around his ankles, while _Destiny’s_ head scientist was kneeling in front of him, fiddling with his boot-laces.

The only thing that would make this moment even more perfect would be the sudden appearance of Eli and one of his infernal kinos. Young could easily envision the kid, eagerly recording this momentous occasion for posterity, not caring about the traumatized victims he might leave in his wake.

Young couldn’t help the shudder running through him at the thought. He shot a wary look at the door of his quarters, but it remained mercifully closed. He thought about asking Rush to lock it, but on second thought he decided that particular request might probably send entirely the wrong signal. He couldn’t risk Rush fleeing his quarters, because the scientist thought Young wanted to lock them in. The thought alone sounded kind of creepy, as if the next step would be unwanted advances. Not that Young had any ambitions in that direction.

He stopped. How in hell’s name had he arrived in _this_ particular corner of his mind? Carefully he backtracked the last sequence of his thoughts until he was on safe ground again. Then he shook himself to clear his thoughts.

“Stop that, you idiot!” Rush said sharply, and hardly ever had his voice been more welcome to Young’s ears. He looked down at Rush and met the scientists upward glance. _Nicholas Rush_ , Young thought, _reliable like the mad hatter’s cuckoo clock_. He grinned and felt slightly disappointed when Rush ignored him.

“Sit down and try to keep your injured leg as straight as possible,” Rush said instead.

Young did his best to comply. Fortunately it was easier than he had imagined. Carefully he lowered himself on his bed while bending only one leg and keeping the other straight, all the while aware that Rush was observing his maneuvering closely. Of course, he didn’t offer any help.

Still kneeling in front of him, Rush freed him of his boots and pants. A slight jostle caused Young to wince in pain. It earned him such a sharp look from Rush, Young felt tempted to wince again, this time in anticipation of the tongue-lashing that he knew would follow eventually.

“I still think I should call TJ,” Rush said.

Young had just been in the process of slowly raising first his good and then his battered leg onto the bed. Rush’s suggestion startled him so much, however, he inadvertently let go of the leg. The leg bent at the joint and the resulting pain almost sent him toppling sideways and off the bed.

It was Rush’s quick reflexes that saved Young. Using Young’s leg almost like a lever, he managed to keep Young in balance. Needless to say, Young’s injured leg didn’t like the procedure

“Geez, Rush. One day, you’ll be the death of me, I swear!” Young said, feeling slightly wheezy and gritting his teeth to fight back the fresh wave of pain.

Rush only gave him one of his long-suffering looks. He rose to his feet and turned toward the door.

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” Young asked.

Rush turned around again. “Don’t tell me, you’re having abandonment issues, Everett,” he said with a smirk.

 _Yep, still the same jerk as always_ , Young thought. Unfortunately Young needed him. The question was: how to compel or cajole Rush into helping him? He looked at Rush, feverishly going through things he could offer or threaten to do.

Maybe Rush saw the sheer misery in Young’s face; maybe he was struck by a rare whim of uncharacteristic goodwill. “I’m going to the sickbay to get you some icepacks and something for the pain,” he told Young matter-of-factly. “I won’t tell TJ it’s for you.”

Before Young could even say thank you, Rush was already through the door and on his way.

***

About thirty minutes later, Rush finally returned to Young’s quarters. To Young, who had had only his frazzled nerves and his aching knee to keep him company, that time had felt like an eternity. For Rush the time had passed like a breeze.

***

“What took you so long?” Young’s petulant voice greeted him the moment Rush set foot into the colonel’s quarters.

Rush felt sorely tempted to simply turn on his heel and leave the man to his misery. Briefly closing his eyes, he reminded himself of his resolve to try and get along with Young. Playing nurse, however, was definitely stretching his definition of getting along. Then he thought back to the conversation he’d had with Young on _Destiny’s_ observation deck. _We might not run out of galaxies_ , he thought, _but life is too short to waste it on pointless squabbling._ Swallowing his initial acerbic comment he settled on mockery instead.

“Definitely abandonment issues,” he said to Young, shaking his head resignedly.

To Rush’s surprise Young didn’t respond, but only watched as Rush deposited his laptop on the desk opposite the colonel’s bed. Rush had grabbed it after he’d been to the sickbay, reasoning that if he had to spend time here to keep an eye on Young, he could at least try to spend as much as possible of that time productively.

That left only the tray Rush had been carrying when he’d come in, and he placed that on the bed in front of Young. The colonel had obviously tried to make himself more comfortable. He was leaning against the bed’s headrest now with both his legs outstretched in front of him, leaving enough room for Rush to sit down beside him.

Rush studied Young’s injured knee critically, noticing how swollen it looked. It had also acquired an angry reddish tint that definitely hadn’t been there before Rush had left. Probably a sign of inflammation, he decided.

Without thinking, he reached out and carefully placed his palm over the knee in question. It was warm, and a quick comparison with the colonel’s thigh made it clear that it was indeed far too warm. He briefly considered checking the temperature of his own knee to have another reference for comparison. Of course, he would have to unfasten his jeans for that, and on second thought that might send entirely the wrong signal. So instead he settled on checking the temperature of Young’s uninjured knee.

Having satisfied his scientific curiosity, Rush looked up. His eyes met Young’s. The colonel was studying him with a very odd expression on his face. Then he looked away.

Rush decided it was high time to refocus on the important things here. “Tell me again how this happened,” he demanded. He picked up one of the icepacks but didn’t apply it, making it clear that he expected cooperation in exchange for his nursing duties.

Young groaned in response, but he answered obediently enough. “As I told you already, I was playing basketball with Scott and Greer.”

Carefully Rush placed the first icepack on Young’s knee. “I see. That would be the same Scott and Greer who are not only much younger than yourself, but also much fitter than you, I presume?” When no answer came he looked up again, catching Young exasperatedly rolling his eyes. Briefly Rush wondered if he would get away with a quick slap to the colonel’s head. It certainly was a tempting idea.

He took the second and third icepack he’d brought with him and quickly affixed them with an elastic bandage. “Fine, you don’t have to answer that,” Rush said. “What I really want to know is this. How an intelligent man…” He paused, giving Young a calculating look, before continuing. “…how a _seemingly_ intelligent man of your age and in complete awareness of the less than perfect condition of his right knee can come up with such an asinine idea as playing basketball with his military-buddies? What was it, Colonel? A desperate need for some male bonding?” Rush knew he was pushing it, but he seemed unable to stop.

“We were just playing, Nick,” Young interrupted him calmly.

Rush thought that was probably the dumbest excuse he’d ever heard, especially from a grown man. “You know, you really make me wonder sometimes. Who do you think you are? Our horde’s silverback?” Rush had a sudden image of Young, dangling from a liana and lazily swinging back and forth inside _Destiny’s_ stargate. Hastily he called his mind to order. As entertaining as the idea was, his primary goal here was discouraging Young from being an irresponsible fool. “If you were just playing, then why are you so reluctant to let TJ have a look?” Rush sighed. “This won’t happen again,” he said at last.

Young didn’t answer, but he didn’t look away either.

Rush briefly checked the fit of his handiwork. When he was satisfied, he turned to the tray again, picking up a tea mug filled with one of TJ’s pain-killer brews and handing it to Young. He watched as Young took a first tentative sip.

“Well?” Rush asked when it seemed more and more likely that Young planned to simply out-silence him.

Young looked at him for a long time. Then he blinked rapidly. “Yes, mum,” he said at last, his voice as sullen as a schoolboy’s who’d been caught red-handed at a prank. His eyes, however, were full of laughter.

For a second Rush felt real anger flaring up. He opened his mouth, intent on giving the colonel his full ‘no holds barred, we won’t take any prisoners’ take on the idiot’s behavior.

This time, though, Young was surprisingly quick. “I’m sorry, Nick. You’re right of course,” he said in his normal voice, the laughter gone. “I really appreciate you helping me out here.” His expression was as serious as his voice. The only thing out of place was the colonel’s raised eyebrow that seemed to say, ‘See I can be an adult if I have to be.’

Rush looked at him expectantly.

“And yes, I promise I won’t try any more basketball,” Young added resignedly.

It sounded acceptable. Rush nodded, got up from the bed and, picking up the second cup of tea, he went over to the desk and opened his laptop. He calculated that he had at least an hour before it was time to get a new set of icepacks. Until then he could work on some of those energy-equations Eli had sent him.

It did take far less time than an hour before he heard Young clearing his throat. When Young did it a second time, Rush finally looked up.

“Yes?” he asked warily.

“I’m bored,” Young said.

“I’m working,” Rush answered, looking at his laptop again.

“Maybe you could get me another pillow?” Young asked.

“Working,” Rush answered. This time he didn’t bother to look up.

“How about a game of chess?”

Rush didn’t even answer this time. Naturally he didn’t look up either. If he had, he might’ve seen the look of pure mischief in the colonel’s eyes. He took a sip of his tea.

“You know, I could settle for a hand-job,” Young said.

Slowly Rush looked up. “You’re an arsehole,” he said very calmly.

Young gave him a wide smile. “Hey, what do you expect?” he asked jovially. “It was you who couldn’t get me out of these pants fast enough.”


End file.
